Babes in Toyland
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day seven hundred and eighty-seven: What are world class thieves without the tools of their trade? - Trinity Series


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 37th cycle. Now cycle 38!_

_**PRE-CHRISTMAS NON-CHRISTMAS:** It's already my third holiday season of Gleekathon, woo! So happy about that :D Anyhoo, just to explain what I'm doing for it this year: How it goes is I always have a set of stories with Christmas-y titles but non-Christmas-y plots, so to give an air of the season but not too much ;) First year was '12 Days of Christmas', last year was 'Reindeer'. This year's theme is "Christmas Movies" :) It'll run from December 8th to 19th, after which I have a slightly bigger undertaking to take us to Christmas Eve (stay tuned and find out, ha! ;)). So here we go!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>INTRODUCING "CHEAT SHEET" - <strong>If you want to know ahead of time when a certain series will be updated next, just reassemble the link below and check out the list, save it, print it, bookmark it, whatever you need!  
>Go to: <span>gleekathon [dot] tumblr [dot] com [slash] cheatsheet<span>_

* * *

><p><strong>"Babes in Toyland"<br>Older Quinn, Brittany, Santana - Brittana, Spinn [Spencer/Quinn - yes, I made my own shipper name :P]  
>Trinity #7 [following 'Our Own Names'] <strong>

This was going to be their last job before they took a break that would lead into the wedding, in about a month and a half, sometime in January. It was the last one, and it was a big one, which could only mean one thing… They had to go shopping.

Part of it was the more or less 'regular' stuff, clothes, luggage, whatever they might take to go by covertly before and after the job. But then there was the job itself, and that meant a trip down to their technical connection, Winger. Santana had been walking around with a wish list, like they were being allowed an all-access pass in Santa's workshop.

"Let's go, ladies, I've got my eye on some motion sensors," she called from the door to their home. Brittany sauntered past with a giddy look on her face and an empty case in her hand.

"All set!" she went on.

"That's my girl," Santana grinned. "Quinn, hurry your ass up!" she called back up toward her room. The blonde came out with her own case, giving a pointed look.

"You know you're kind of intense right now."

"That's why you love me," she motioned for her to walk out.

"Is that what it is?" Quinn snorted as she went by, and Santana grabbed her case to follow.

The car loaded up with the three cases, they drove off to Winger's. They had been in business with him long enough that he 'trusted' them, let them browse his stock on their own. When they landed in that room, it wasn't just Santana's eyes that lit up, though they did light up the brightest. These were the tools of their trade, and they couldn't deny they saw a lot of things they liked, things they could use. But like at any other time they had to retrain themselves and only get what they'd need for this job.

"If I break out Spanish, get me out of here," Santana looked to Brittany, who gave a nod and patted her shoulder.

"Yeah, me too," she told her.

"I'd say the same, but she hasn't taught me," Quinn quipped.

"Sorry, private lessons," Santana moved into the room. "Hello, how are you," she breathed, seeing the sensors she'd been wanting to get. "Besides, you do just fine," she turned the conversation right back around to Quinn, who had moved along to picking up items, same as Brittany.

"Thank Schue," Quinn threw back.

"I miss him," Brittany frowned. "Him and Miss Pillsbury, and the girls… Cables!" she turned when she saw them sitting there. "Mine…" she grinned.

"How are we going to deal with the entry, th…" Santana started, but got a throat clearing from Quinn. Looking back at her she found the blonde was shaking her head, then she remembered – Winger no doubt had this room fixed up with audio and video surveillance. As much as they trusted the guy, enough that he knew their names, they usually didn't let him in on anything pertinent that had to do with their jobs. "Sorry," she turned her eyes up, giving a look of 'shame on you' to whoever might have been watching them. "If we're not going to talk about that, then let's go with my next favorite topic."

"Bath tubs?" Brittany piped in. Santana exhaled.

"I was actually referring to a certain Scottish charmer," she smirked toward Quinn, who was suddenly very interested in a pair of darkened glasses she slipped on her face.

"Spencer? Did you run into him again?" Brittany asked, anxious to know.

"You make so many coffee runs, trying to run into him, you're jittery enough to power a small town some days," Santana threw back at Quinn.

"Courage to deal with you," she defended herself.

"Right, of course. So how is Glasgow Guy?" Santana batted her eyes.

"He's from Inverness," Quinn corrected absentmindedly, then sighed – baited, and she'd fallen for it.

"Hey…" she turned, and Santana was at her side, a friendly look on her face. "You know I'm just messing with you because I want you to be happy, right?" Quinn smiled, putting the glasses on Santana's face. She adjusted them, smiled back.

"They look better on you."

"As most things do," she couldn't help herself, and Quinn laughed.

"I do know," she promised.

"Good. Now get out of here and find your guy. We've got it covered here," she looked back to Brittany, who was eyeing a stack of boxes.

"Are you two going to be alright in here without me? I mean I know what being around all these things does to you, and I don't think Winger could take it," she nodded up to wherever the cameras had to be.

"We'll behave… We'll try… We have self-control," Santana insisted.

"Sure, because I haven't walked in on enough displays of that 'self-control,'" Quinn's eyebrow rose.

"Move, now," Santana pointed to the door.

Quinn left Winger's and moved down toward the coffee shop. Her roommates, friends, and 'partners in crime' – literally – had been all too right about her, no matter how complicated the situation was… She liked Spencer, couldn't make herself not like him. Their talks had gone from lasting the time of their reaching the counter, to the length of reaching the counter and drinking their coffees, and now involved queuing, drinking, and a stroll… This was how she'd learned about his life back in Inverness, his family... The more she heard, the more she liked him… the more she was scared of not getting to see things through with him.

He wasn't there when she got there this time, which she had to expect… It wasn't like he lived at the coffee shop. Still, when she saw he wasn't there, her heard did sink a little. She'd wanted to see him before they left the city for this job, knowing it would be a while before she was back here and could see him. In all this time, they had never actually exchanged phone numbers, liking the way it was all up to chance, but right then she really wished she could reach him, just to say… to say… I'll miss you while I'm gone, hope you'll miss me too, I'll be back soon, or… something like that.

She'd gotten coffee, sat by the window and drank, waited… When she was done, she stared at her cup, and she finally had to admit to herself he wouldn't come, not now, and she had to go.

Next time she saw him, she'd make up for it. She wasn't saying that she'd make some kind of… grand declaration… but at the very least they could start with exchanging phone numbers.

THE END

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
><strong>**In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
><strong>******always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!******


End file.
